5.30pm
It pains me just to see him lying there. His sickly and weak body just resting there, inhaling deeply, like every breath would be his last. His skin, like wet paper, was covered with bruises, formed from the slightest of trauma.
He was tied down, restraints put in place to keep him from removing the oxygen mask. The sole apparatus that is keeping him alive.
Too weak to breathe let alone talk, yet he was still adamant in taking the mask that obscured his speech. Perhaps he was desperately trying to tell us his last words. His dying will.
He never got to say them.
Nonetheless, the arrests did not prevent him from trying. His skin became torn as a result of his abrasive struggles.
He also drifted in and out of coma. Unable to respond directly but we knew that he could still hear us. His heart rate spiked whenever we called out his name.
公公, 你听得到我吗? 我是国川, 我来看你了.
He passed away 20 minutes ago. After enduring nights from the painful effects of pneumonia, he finally passed on. To a better place my cousin put it.
People will ask if I was close to my grandfather.
My answer regrettably will always be. “Not as close as I wished we were."
The sadness will inevitably pass with time. The memories of him however will not.
And then there will be the hatred for my sorry excuse of a brother. That retarded scumbag had the nerve to continue playing his game instead of informing me of the death of our, correction, my grandfather.
20minutes.
The most regretful 20minutes of my life.
And that brings us here. This hurtful concoction of spite and sorrow.
-Zarae.LetsDrinkToTheDead.
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